


The Bat and His Bird

by Merfilly



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-31
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A relationship told in vignettes from their histories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bat and His Bird

It was one year later. The limousine pulled up to the flower shop, and the driver exited the vehicle. He walked around in steady steps, opening the door for the heir to all of Wayne Enterprises. A very composed, quiet boy stepped out, his eyes taking in the old time façade of the building they were at. A part of him wanted to reach out and take the hand of his guardian, the loyal manservant of his father. He did not, choosing the walk with the aloof detachment the press was already noting in the quiet, bereaved boy.

"Good morning," the florist said in a sweet voice. He glanced up at her, seeing a small woman with raven hair and bright blue eyes. Over in one corner a young girl with the same coloring was playing quietly with her dolls. His piercing eyes, already learning to take in all the details, noted that one doll wore a tiara and bracelets, while the boy doll had a small metal cap with paper lightning bolts on the side.

"Good morning, ma'am," the boy said in a firm, too old before his time voice. "I'd like to purchase some roses."

"Of course, young man." The woman went into the back of her shop, where the fresh flowers were. "How many, young man?"

"Two, long stemmed, please."

She returned shortly, the roses laid on paper and ready to be wrapped. She carefully attended that detail, wrapping a silk ribbon around them once the paper was protecting her from the thorns. Once she had finished, she rang the sale, and completed the transaction, watching as the solemn boy accepted the flowers. The little girl had stopped playing, and regarded the boy for a long moment before running over to him.

"Hi." The little girl still had the chubbiness of toddlers, but her eyes were lit with bright intelligence.

"Dinah, don't bother the customers." The woman spoke with fond sternness, but even she had to smile when her daughter granted the boy an unasked for hug prior to running off. "Sorry, young sir, she's a demonstrative child."

"I…I don't mind." As sad a day as this was, that quick, furtive hug had been much needed, even if it had come from a stranger. He tipped his hat to the lady politely, and then walked out of the shop with his guardian. "Take me there, Alfred," he was saying as they exited. The florist found her daughter then, picking her up for a hug of her own.

"Do you know who that was, sweetie?" The woman sighed softly at Dinah's shake of the head. "That was young Bruce Wayne. And today is the anniversary of the day he lost his parents. So it was kind of you to hug him."

"He needed it, mama."

* * *

She knows she should have stayed, but the fear and horror of what she had done was too much. And then there was the look on her mother’s face. A look of disappointment quickly replaced by the wariness of seeing a monster in the making. It had driven icy shards through Dinah’s soul, and she had run outside, taking her mother’s motorcycle without thinking.

Just as little thought had passed her mind on where she was going. She had driven deep into the heart of Gotham, just trying to escape the images of her parents thrown through a wall by the sheer power of her voice. She had no idea how that had happened, why her shouting back at the Black Canary had suddenly devastated their home.

She was her father’s daughter, though, as much as her mother’s. When she heard gunshots, she could not help herself. The motorcycle was ditched and she took off at a run for two gun bearing robbers leaving a convenience store. Neither one saw her in time to prevent the cross body tackle from the tiny young woman. Ted had taught her well, too, as her fists made contact just right, rendering them unconscious. The sounds of sirens responding to the robbery snapped her out of the elation, though, bringing back the fear of what she had done earlier, and she took off running to her bike.

Even when she was older, she would never be able to describe how he did it. Her bike was in the clear, and then just as suddenly there was this tall costumed man, dressed up like a bat. She had only just started hearing rumors of a masked vigilante scaring the perps with such a trick, but her heart started hammering anyway.

“I didn’t mean to!” She dropped into a running stance, and almost bolted as he raised a hand up.

“It was a good takedown,” he said, not understanding anything beyond her fear and the fact he was not alone in trying to protect this city. “Your bike?” He gestured for her to get on it, which she did warily. “Go. The police will be here within the minute.” He fired off something and rose up into the air, leaving her to escape. Her mind was foggy on the details of it, but she thought he was using some form of high tech grappling gun. Instinct kicked in again, and she fled the scene, going to a little park nestled into the East Side that she had loved when she was a little girl.

She had barely settled on the bench when she became aware he was there with her again. It made her draw her knees up into her chest, rocking slowly.

“I honestly did not mean to,” she said, tired of running.

“They’re okay,” he told her. “Ran your plates.” It was the only answer he gave for her wary look at him. “You should go home, talk to them.”

“They…Mom won’t understand. This all started because she flipped out over me…. trying to make things right. I’m a good fighter; my uncle said so himself, and he is totally wicked in the ring.” Dinah heaved a massive sigh. “Dad said I got his eyes and ears for a reason. Thinks I could be a good detective.”

“I can’t help you on understanding your parents,” he told her, sitting beside her on the bench. “Your mother is probably being protective. But I do know I saw your reaction back there. Your instinct for doing right, and the skill you have cannot be denied. You’re going to feel the pull to use what you know every time someone around you is in danger.”

“So you’re saying I should go with my instincts?”

“But talk to them. Try to help them understand.” The twist of his lips under the cowl was a rueful one. “You only get one family, Miss Lance. And even if you do have some new, inhuman ability, they are still going to love their daughter.” He watched as she closed her eyes against threatening tears. He was not sure why, but he moved closer to the scared, skinny little teen and pulled her against his chest, letting his cape fall around her as he hugged her carefully. “Just remember, Gotham’s a nasty place, and she needs strong justice.” With that, he pulled away and disappeared into the night, leaving her vaguely reassured and ready to face the consequences of her earlier actions. When Dinah was older, she’d be able to cite the JSA and her parents as inspirations, but would never admit that she had drawn her final resolve from the fledgling Batman.

* * *

The nerves hit her ‘after’ the press conference. They had officially done it in the world’s eyes. A new team for Justice had emerged, and she was one of its prime movers. Now, if she could live up to her mother’s reputation.

She sighed as she leaned back against the walkway rail at the motel she was staying in. Her whole body was bruised and sore from their encounter with the aliens. She wished, just for once, that she could meet a good guy, someone like her father had been for her mother to help her with these things.

“You should work out daily.” The voice startled Dinah into straightening too quickly, causing her to hiss in pain. “It would help alleviate the stiffness when you have to use your body so forcefully.” Out of the shadows of the stairwell, Batman came toward her. 

“Why won’t you join us, Batman?” She could feel the difference in him, hear it in his voice. The few years since he had consoled a teenage girl just learning she was dangerously different had shaped him, defined him into a man that held the world at arm’s length. It was not fear that made him do this. It was merely the best way for him to view it and protect it from itself.

“I work alone.” He had come directly to her side, taking her arm and guiding her with old-fashioned dignity into her actual room. “But this team will probably work well for you.” 

“Flash is our leader, even if Green Lantern thinks he is,” she deferred. 

“You gave the push, and you will be the conscience,” he told her, gently sitting her in the low backed chair. She sighed softly, bone weary from all the excitement. When hands, ungloved hands, came to rest on her shoulders, she sighed even more.

“Why?” she whispered, almost too softly to be heard.

“Because you belong to my city, and I see potential in you unlike that of many.” His voice sounded as if he were reading a fact sheet about her, but his hands displayed gentle concern.

“Thank you.” Her eyes were drooping as he relaxed a muscle that she had felt tense in battle. She was all but asleep when he transferred her to the bed, and deeply out of it by the time he left her.

* * *

“You’re going to Star City for him.” The voice was one that rumbled from the window, twisting Canary’s stomach in knots as she packed. “You’re leaving Gotham.”

“I love him.” She felt a heaviness in her heart though, one at odds with how love should feel.

“He’s notorious about his affairs.” There seemed to be a gentle warning in his words, but Canary shook her head.

“He loves me.” She placed the last of her clothes in the suitcase, turning then to see Batman. The Dark Knight and she had crossed paths professionally over the years, but their small encounters like this had been very few. 

“You’ll always have a place in Gotham.” He moved to the window to leave her alone once more.

“Batman!” She was unsure why, but she could not leave it on that note. He turned back to face her with a small frown, and she moved forward, taking his hands in both of hers. “I’ll never forget Gotham. Or the way you’ve looked over me.” She squeezed his gloved hands, before tiptoeing up to kiss his cheek just below the cowl. “Be safe, Batman.”

“And you, Canary.” If his voice was just slightly softer, maybe a little concerned, she let it go, wrapped in her view of the coming life with Oliver Queen in his city. He left her then, saying goodbye to a piece of his childhood in his heart.

* * *

He doesn’t even care how she found him or what she is doing in Gotham. The move to Star City had been but the beginning. When she had followed the archer even further to Seattle, he had decided she was throwing herself away. Right now, none of it mattered. Nothing mattered.

“Batman.” She comes very close to him, unlike anyone else. She could not be ignorant of his temper, too many people had seen it, had talked of his irrationality since…He takes a deep breath, rage building again as he remembers the torn, broken body. And yet she moves even closer, kneeling in front of where he is perched, and he can’t help but notice she’s not costumed, not even wigged. “Batman, please.” She has that voice, that soft voice that so long ago said ‘hi’ to him on the anniversary of his life going to hell. And here she is again, an angel in his grief and madness, reaching out to him.

“Canary.” It is harshly spoken, through gritted teeth, but he is in control for just a minute, taking her under the cape as her arms encircle his waist. He feels the momentary bunching of muscles, the involuntary reaction to a man touching her, and he regrets not having gone to her after her ordeal. Surely she had needed him then, just as he needs her now. He inhales the soft scent of flowers, amazed that this fragile woman has come to offer the comfort they have traded over the years from across the country.

“Don’t let it take you from us,” she whispers. “Please.” He feels her tremble a second, then rise up enough to brush her lips over his rough shaven cheek. “I…we still need you.” She releases him, moving back as the fear rises too high for her to manage. He takes her hand gently, drawing the fingertips to his lips.

“Thank you.” He lets go, and she leaves, both of them aware that they will heal.

* * *

He started to call her, invite her to return home to Gotham. It just did not feel right to go to her in the aftermath of her break up. No matter what they shared, their history of comfort to one another, he did not want to give a wrong impression to her. It just would not help her any, if she thought he was poaching so soon after the break up. 

When his phone rang, with the alert that the call was patched through via Justice League protocols, he put thoughts of her aside. League business came first.

“Batman?” Her voice, shy and unsure, greeted his ear. He wondered at that, just a moment. ‘His’ Canary was strong, strong enough to overcome any fear in the long run.

“Canary,” he replied, trying not to sound too cold.

“I…I just needed….” The line grew silent for a long moment, and he could not even hear her breathing, hard as he tried.

“I’m here, if you ever need anything.” There; a bit of softness for her, to ease whatever turmoil had prompted her to use League protocols to contact him. 

“Thank you.” The click of the line hanging up was all the good-bye they both needed.

* * *

Dinah watched Connor Hawke leave, her mind shutting in on itself. It was obvious to her the minute he walked in that he was there with bad news. To hear about the death of the man she had loved for years, from the son she had not known about, hurt her to the core. Not only was her life in a basket straight to hell, but also not a single person that had known them both had bothered to bear the news to her. Granted, they had been apart for some time, but….

It was just one more symptom of how she was a nobody for the first time in her life. No one cared to find the washed-up Black Canary. Sure, she had turned a few hero tricks for the mysterious Oracle, but that wasn’t exactly panning out.

A cool breeze, bearing the light moisture of yet another rain was her first impression of his entry. She turned, and saw the man that had been her rock of Gibraltar through the years. Ever since that night in the park, when things got bad…he would appear. And she had done the same for him, in one of his darkest moments, after he had lost an innocent boy to the fiends he fought.

He stood there for a long moment, just watching her, making sure she was holding on to sanity in the wake of losing Oliver Queen. He had never understood the match between them, had been forced to let it happen, even as the man gave her more heartbreak every year. It felt odd to come to offer her comfort, as if some part of him felt like he was poaching in a void not yet decent to fill. He knew, though, that the others were caught up in their own grief, their own way of dealing, and she was isolated from them by more than miles lately.

She could feel the pressure of her grief and self pity building again, just at seeing the cowled hero there. There was no way to express it, it seemed, but to launch herself from the chair and into his arms, feeling the armor’s hard angles with a need to burn that impression into her memory. He caught her up tight, his cape closing around her to seal her into himself, almost, as she cried silently, with bitter tears for her lost love and for the choices that had brought her to this point. It amazed him still that a woman who had lived by the sound of her devastating Canary Cry for years would grieve so quietly. Only when her shaking became almost violent against him did he open the cape, scoop her up and take her to her small bedroom. The way she clung to him caused a faint pain to build in his chest; it was so WRONG for her to be reduced like this. 

In her room, he sat on the bed, keeping her cradled to him. He was about a foot taller than her, and far more massive, so it was an easy thing for him to rock her gently, his cheek brushed by her soft hair. Slowly, the effect he was seeking crept over her, putting her into the heavy sleep of a person pushed too far. Laying her down on the bed, he drew the blankets up over her, and rose to softly walk out. As he did so, he saw the signs of someone barely making ends meet, and wondered how the woman he had watched for most of her adult life could have possibly fallen so far.

He might have let such details get away from him before, but he knew how to rectify it. Barbara Gordon would have to be finessed most carefully, though, so she thought it was completely her own idea to start handling more cases that needed the skills of Dinah Lance, full time. If he did it just right, it would draw the tiny vigilante back to Gotham, back home where she belonged.

* * *

Oracle had given her a simple assignment, tracking a recent escapee from Arkham. It was rare that her missions from Oracle kept her so close to home, but it was nice in its own way. She had been gone for long enough that well known landmarks for her had subtly changed, giving the city a new façade over the old corruption. Following a man like Riddler meant taking a scenic route. She still was unsure why she wasn't just apprehending the crook, but she had learned to let Oracle have her whims every now and then.

Riddler finally came to stop at a house in a low suburban sprawl, and she took up vigil from the roof of the house across the way the street. She had eyes on the man through the front window, watching him talk to a man that seemed vaguely familiar from criminal database photos. Oracle informed her it was the Cluemaster, which really did not clarify his identity to her in the least. As she was watching, a bike that did look familiar came into the vicinity, bearing two riders. Oracle told her that her stake out part was done; Spoiler and Robin would handle the rest, as Batgirl was close by to provide back up. She rose and started to make her way off the roof, turning to find Batman just out of reach.

"Oh," she murmured. "Oracle, going offline." She got a murmured response, before she turned off the receiver. Now, her blue eyes took in the brooding figure, and some of her saucy chatter came to mind. Only, it did not come out of her mouth, as he was apparently studying her, not watching his young protégés below. "I came home," is what she did say.

"I know." His voice was neutral, indicating it was just a fact of life for him to know the movements of heroes in his city. She felt the cold that so many people associated with him, and shivered, trying to sort illusion from reality. She thought he truly had some concern for her, for whatever reason. 

"Well, I'll behave. My agent for bookings tends to send me out of town mostly." She started to move by him, only to feel his gauntlet on her wrist as she got even with him.

"Welcome home, Canary." There it was, that hint of warmth that revealed their lifelong bond, a mixing of their fates for growing up in this twisted city with a mission to protect and serve. Before she could stop herself, she leaned close to him, kissing his cheek beneath the cowl.

"Thank you." She left quickly, so his troupe of crime fighters could not possibly have fuel to use for any teasing they were allowed to get away with.

* * *

His glare was pained and filled with more contempt than she could have imagined being aimed at her. She had no words to broach his walls with this time; she had failed him in their mutual drive to protect the city. 

He started to move past her, to just act as if she was not there, but their long-term association demanded something.

“Why?!” His harsh whisper hit her like a fist, and she looked down in shame. 

“I was out of town, and then the quarantine hit,” she whispered back, not even flinching when he grasped her wrist harshly.

“You could have found a way, Canary. You left your partner out in the cold! You left Gotham open to the madness that raped her!”

She looked up into his eyes, seeing the haunted feeling of having failed there.

“I did what I could from where I was. I helped organize the Justice Society’s efforts to repel the attacks from out here. I searched for every meta human I could that I thought could help!”

“You should have been here!”

She could not frame a reply. When she had left to attend Wesley Dodds’ funeral, she had no idea an earthquake like that would rip through Gotham, or the insanity that followed. Still, she did feel like she should have been here, helping him, helping Oracle.

“I’m sorry. I did fail us.” He dropped her eyes again, and it made him look at her slender wrist in his hand, a wrist that now bore his crushing handprint. He forced himself to release her, moving away from her.

This time, she did not follow, unable to comfort him, or break through her own guilt.

* * *

It was the very same park she had escaped to as a teenager, she realized. A little more overgrown, a bit less protected. She had heard some plant-loving villain had once used the park as a base. That hardly mattered now; it seemed appropriate to be back here with the rebirth of her Cry weighing on her mind. She had been such an idiot, and she truly ought to be dead. If it were not for Oracle, and all of Oracle’s contacts, she would be. 

Instead, she was sitting on a park bench, knees tucked up under her chin, trying to ignore the tears that streamed down her cheeks. She remembered the hateful things she had said in her rebirth madness. She also knew that every injury suffered by the team Oracle had put together was completely her fault. All because she had met and been scammed by a man that appealed to her every messed up detail of a perfect match. He was older, urbane, sophisticated, and strong. He had taken care of her, pampering her with that sure touch she truly appreciated in a man. It was just too damn bad he had turned out to be The Demon’s Head.

*****

The view into the park was clear. He could see her sitting on the bench, and his perfect memory matched it to the bench where he had found her that long ago night. Oracle was concerned for her, had frightened him by asking if there were long term effects from being doused in the Lazarus Pit they should know of. Oracle had refused to give him details, but she had not needed to, not when he received a letter addressed to The Detective the very next night.

Talia had seen Black Canary, tipped her father off about the strikingly pretty and smart fighter. His research had been more in-depth, a fact that still disturbed Batman. Canary was targeted by his old nemesis as a way to strike at him, having uncovered the fact that Canary was linked into his assortment of allies and family. R’as al Ghul had made a theoretical leap, and used it to justify his own appraisal of his potential mate; if The Detective found her worthy, then she must be compatible for himself.

*****

She stood up at last, composing herself as best she could, her eyes doing an automatic scan of the horizon. As she exited the park, she was almost certain she saw someone cross a rooftop, and a cold chill stirred her soul. He still watched, but would he ever forgive her?

*****

He thought she might have seen him, and regretted that. He just did not know how to take his anger back, and make things the way they had been. His world was darker for the loss of his Canary.

* * *

Her feet did not even reach the ground from the bench. She could see all the other kids and adults, waiting for Klarion’s spell to be lifted. She had no one to really lean on during the crisis, and she had already decided she did not like being a little girl without a Daddy to take care of her, and a Mommy to look up to. There weren’t really any girls her age; she was younger than a good many of her peers, but older than the adult former Titans. She sighed, for about the thirtieth time, and planted her chin on her knees as she brought her feet up under her.

She watched as the recently made adults scurried busily, and the other newly made kids played, obeyed, or got into mischief. None of the groups called to her in the least, but she felt very alone. All she wanted was the same as a child her apparent age could want: the comfort of a parent.

Then a boy that seemed a year or so older than her, dressed all in a tiny bat suit sat down on the bench next to her. She looked at him, and then back away, feeling even lonelier now. When she felt his hand touching hers, just at the fingertips, she had to look back to see him peering at her in concern.

“Sorry.” Even this young, with the psychological impact of being youthened, he seemed so mature, so solemn. But his word was tinged with true regret, and she moved her hand a bit closer, still discreet about it as she laid her fingers over his.

“Me too.”

* * *

Batman looked at the tabloid pictures that had filtered into his alerts, showing him two prominent JSA members out on a date that had been interrupted by Count Vertigo. The picture showed a couple, but the body language of the woman defied that label to his eyes. Or maybe, he thought, chiding himself, he was fooling himself. In all the months since he had apologized for his anger, she had not truly been in Gotham that much. Her increased activity with the Society had taken her far and wide, while Oracle kept her globe trotting to be a one-woman world police force. 

“She’s lonely.” It was Oracle, breaking in on her dedicated server.

“Monitoring me now, Oracle?” he asked with just a hint of annoyance.

“When you have a filter that matches one of mine and it is not crime related, I get curious.” The former Batgirl switched video on, so she could see him from her Tower. “Bruce, what is going on? I figured out some time back you maneuvered me into taking her on as my agent. And I am aware that you and she have met a few times, when she goes silent. Is there something I should know about my agent?” 

Batman idly thought that Oracle had picked up a healthy case of the Bat paranoia. “No, Oracle. She is merely an old friend. I know her self-destructive cycles, and set up a filter to monitor it.” He half smiled at her. “After all, it would not do for a founding League member to marry my arch foe or some other faux pas.” Barbara’s embarrassed smile at him did take some of his troubles away for the moment. 

“I tried to warn her, but she is a very stubborn woman.” Barbara turned away as an alert hit her console, a split second before one lit up Batman’s console. “Oh my god!” Oracle gasped in surprise and worry. Batman read his console and felt a steel vise grip his heart.

“It can’t be,” he whispered, forgetting for just the moment how much sound Oracle’s system could pick up.

“Oliver Queen is alive in Star City!”

* * *

She had given him a chance, and he had done it again. When she had asked if he wanted to tell her, she had already known. She could read him too easily to not know. All she wanted was for him to acknowledge his slip, so they could move past it. And he had denied her, forcing her to make the same decision as she had before he died. He would not trample her heart, and the guard that she had kept while they saw one another had cushioned the blow of his infidelity. She would continue to mentor Mia when the girl needed it, keep in touch with Connor as she had since the first time they had met, and of course she would be there for Roy, the man she called son, in her heart. But for Ollie…it would take time for her to treat him, as she should have from the beginning, as just a friend and ally.

Now, she borrowed access on the Justice League transporters, taking herself back to Gotham with all due speed. If she did not, her infamous temper, which had been in check for quite some time now, would get the better of her and Ollie would pay more dearly. She materialized on the pad in the Tower, and looked up to see who was at the controls to request Gotham.

Batman saw the tight body language, knew he had brought her from Star City, and could guess the rest. His jaw clenched as he met her eyes, seeing the barely restrained anger there. He wanted nothing more than to go and demand what in all that was holy Oliver Queen thought he was doing when he took Dinah back, only to trample her trust again. He kept that in check, though, not wanting to reveal more than she could accept.

“Gotham?” he asked her, keeping his voice neutral.

She wondered at the jaw clench, having caught it despite her preoccupation. “I guess,” she said. “I need to get back to work.” Her tense tone worried him, and he stepped away from the controls.

“Wouldn’t it be better to work that hostility out before you go hunting world criminals?” he inquired, not wanting her to get hurt because she was distracted.

“Unless you are volunteering to be the stand in punching bag, I suggest you send me on down to Oracle, Batman,” she told him firmly, keeping her chin up and her voice level.

“Join me in the training room,” he invited, his eyes narrowing at her. She regarded him for just an instant, and then stepped down off the pad.

“You know, don’t you,” she commented, walking over to his side.

“Yes.” He stopped her from leaving the transport room, holding on to her wrist. “Canary,” he began, only to find he really did not know what to say. It seemed to register with her, as the anger and tension melted out of her tiny frame, and she stepped fully into his personal space. He knew what to do from there; though it had been so long since he held her, he folded his arms carefully around her and let her feel safe for the moment.

“Batman,” she whispered, looking up at him with stormy eyes. “I…”

“Incoming transport request,” the computer interrupted, causing her to hastily move away from him. Batman found himself irritated at the interruption, but moved to operate the controls. He heard the door open and close, and somehow knew she was not going to the training room. Nor, once he had completed bringing Vixen up, did he feel like it would be wise to follow her.

* * *

 _Notes: All quoted dialogue belongs solely to the creative talent of Gail Simone._

“Four minutes early.” She starts off with an inane remark, just because she cannot believe it has come to this. She has been supported by him countless times, lent her shoulder to him when she could, and his extreme paranoia, his cold heartedness has thrown it all away. Yes, mistakes had been made across the board concerning Dr. Light, but she still could not believe the path of self-destruction he seemed bent on by throwing everyone he cared for away.

“—say what you have to say, and let me get back to my work.” 

She repeats his words back to him, hoping he can see what he is becoming, but her own temper is flaring sharply now. “Let’s not forget who you’re talking to. I’ve known you since the League’s earliest days.” Even longer, she realizes, but that is close enough to snap his attention on the professional level. “I’ve never asked you for anything.” And yet, he has always given it in the past, without the asking. “Not once. Not civility, not friendship, not respect, not help of any kind.” He had given those things freely to her in the past, kept her sane and rescued her from the path of destroying herself a few times in the process. “I figured you had reasons for being how you are.” She had her own reasons for looking for him over the years, that kinship that defied all logic, their walks of life. Even knowing now that she had caused it all with the impulsive hug of a child seeing another child hurting, their bond was a mystery to her. “But I’m asking now.”

He eyes her more closely, still unable to let go all of the betrayals, the lost trust from recent events. He cannot help the scowl, the brooding menace, but she reminds him again that she is not one to take his act, telling him to lay off the intimidation. And then she reminds him again of why he had seen her as such a good conscience, before all of this erupted on their heads.

“I want you to lay off Huntress.” She lays it out, tells him not to push her away. She does not plead for herself, for her fellow League members and their mistakes. In the end, he hears her, but he is not listening, going so far as to try to end the conversation patronizingly.

“Anything else?” There was a time when that tone would have provoked a clenched jaw, a shift to a fighting stance. But Canary has grown up, found her stride as a mature woman, and she won’t let him bait her. Instead, she hits him with more conscience.

“Yes, in fact there is. I want you to apologize to Oracle.” Again, thinking of her teammates, the ones that bear none of the stigma she now bears in his eyes, as being involved in the Dr. Light fiasco.

“Oracle’s a big girl. She understands what I did…” He almost shows his surprise when she actually cuts him off.

“No. Not this time. I know you well enough to know that when you are afraid for someone, you hurt them until they leave.” Her voice carries just a hint of knowing that this time, that is not why he has pushed her away, that now it is her fault, for not keeping her heroism pure. “These are my friends now.” He knows how far she’ll go for friends. “They’re under my wing now. And no one treats them this way. No one.” She stares at his retreating back, angry that he thinks he can walk away from her like this. Her last words make him stop, though.

“Are you threatening me, Canary?” He has to ask, unable to truly credit that despite all they have gone through, she would stand up to him so staunchly, knowing just what he thinks of her role in the Light affair.

“I’m not that stupid. But you will lose something if you don’t fix this mess.” He can’t see that she has bowed her head, can’t see the way this cuts her. But he hears it, when she speaks again. “My respect, Batman.” His jerky reaction is lost to her in her own melancholic reverie, but he answers.

“…I’ll think about it.” It’s all he can offer her, for now, but he’s also thinking about his own appraisal of her and the recent crisis.

She hopes he will think about it, while holding no hope for herself in his eyes.

* * *

_Notes: Still guilty of cheating. Simone wrote the actual dialogue and setting._

He’s admired Huntress’s sting operation, told her he was proud of her, but he can’t tell Canary that he’s proud of her, for guiding Huntress to a strong conscience, for the way she handles the leg work for Oracle. He keeps remembering her standing up to him, the way she has had to resume the handling of the League as it falls apart around them all. He turns to go, not wanting to force her to endure his presence, as he suspects her opinion of him has fallen to new lows.

“Batman. Stop.” Her voice is firm, unhesitating, even as it was as she extolled Huntress’s virtues.

“What do you want, Canary? Planning to scold me again?” He turns back to face her, drinking in the sight of this proud, bold woman that a scared little girl had grown up into. He sees her hand outstretched, and is not sure what to think. He never thought she would be so impetuous with two of her teammates standing right there on the Gotham rooftop.

The hand closes on him, and she pulls herself by it to him, throwing that arm around his neck. He has to be mindful of her broken arm (DAMN Deathstroke for hurting her!), but it is a peripheral thought. The feel of her sweet lips on his, parting as his do in surprise, is all he wants to think of as she leans up on tiptoes to better match him. When she breaks, he is not sure what to do or say at first, too aware of Huntress and Lady Blackhawk standing there, jaws dropped to the roof.

“You’re a strange woman, Dinah Lance.” With all the years, all the shared grief, tragedies, anger, and misunderstandings, he can’t believe she just publicly claimed a kiss from him.

“Yeah, yeah, and you kiss better than I figured.” Did he imagine the slight increase in the way she was breathing, a faint flush even? “Don’t you have some mobsters to make incontinent?” Her winning smile, the way she meets his eyes with neither guilt nor doubt makes him feel his own heart hammer in disbelief. Rather than lose the image of that smile, he makes his leap from the building, full of thoughts of possible futures.

* * *

She’s amazingly unscathed, he noted. A puffy eye, and bloody mouth, and torn costume, yet she looked like an angel, and he was sorely in need of one. The EMTs had arrived, had gotten to all of the men and women in need, including his son, his firstborn through trials of heart and body. Dick was still breathing on his own, which put him ahead of many others this day, but they had taken him to the local hospital. 

She slipped into his space, cutting a look at Wonder Woman who was still hovering nearby.

“I’ve got him, Diana,” she said, not quite cattily but with enough emphasis to tell the former goddess that there was far more between the Gothamites than she had ever imagined. 

“I’ll see to the others,” she said before leaving them alone. As Diana walked away, Canary laid her hand gently on the less bruised side of Batman’s face.

“I need to tend to my team as well, but…” She met his eyes. “I saw. And I want you to know…it’s going to be okay. He’s a very strong young man.”

“He did it to save me.” The voice was low, but resigned. 

“Of course he did; he loves his father.” She touched his hand, her face shy. She started to say something else.

“Canary! We found Zinda!” Huntress called across the battlefield, and the petite fighter pulled her hand back.

“I’ll make sure Gotham is safe,” she called as she ran off to see to her team. “You be safe with your sons.”

He watched her go, wondering how she had guessed the nebulous ideas just coming to mind.

* * *

A cold shoulder from one partner plus a harsh lesson in reality from her sister in training had made this a slightly bitter homecoming. At least Oracle had agreed to let her run a small side mission, getting some information from thugs likely to be on Society payroll. She had worked over half a dozen, enduring the frosty silence from Barbara with stoic penitence.

“That’s all I’m going to get tonight, Oracle,” she finally said. “Someone has spooked the goon squad.”

“Very well.” Oracle paused a long moment. “Are you coming back here tonight?” Dinah winced at the ‘here’ rather than ‘home’.

“I’ve got a key and the codes, if I do.” She wanted to on one hand, to be near people she loved and trusted for a change.

“Oracle out, then.” The communication gear clicked off, and Dinah sighed. “All for nothing,” she whispered to herself, rubbing at the painful bruises on her arm from battling Shiva. She turned, just a bare moment before her new company touched the pavement of the alley. 

“Nothing is ever wasted in our world, Canary,” the Dark Knight told her, before sizing her up. She returned the favor, trying to control her increase in pulse, to not let the color rise in her face.

He looked…stronger. Not just in the way he carried himself, but in his very soul. The lines of his face where the cowl exposed it were not so tense anymore.

To him, she looked tense and unhappy. That last barely surprised him; he had heard Oracle’s rants about missing agents and ungratefulness. Dinah was not one to take easily to a spurned Barbara Gordon’s manners. Still, her lines were sleek and toned, in ways that defied even the most critical man to find fault with her. He had no doubt that once Mayor Queen laid eyes on her, he was going to regret every infidelity and lie all over again.

“I’m back, I think,” she murmured, her eyes dropping from his as she realized she had no idea how to handle this. The surge of want and need that had risen to his arrival was overpowering, as were the memories of gazing down at him in the throes of passion. She could still feel the tender way he had held her after, letting her fall asleep against his chest. And, more importantly, the fact he was still there when she woke the next morning.

“Oracle will settle down soon; she’s missed you.” He reached out tipping her chin up, sensing she was not going to be any more forward now that they had reached this stage. He had decided that was not a game he wished to play in. “Until then…you know where I stay. There’s room.” At the soft light that came into her eyes, he gave her the bare minimum of a smile before leaving to finish his patrol.

“Excuse me, but did Batman just invite you to his place?” Oracle asked coolly. Dinah merely smiled like a schoolgirl.

“Yeah, yeah he did.”

“What part of this equation am I missing?” Dinah could almost imagine her drumming her nails as she walked back to where her bike was stashed.

“I thought you signed off from me?” Dinah asked, teasingly. Her mood had improved greatly, as she realized the ‘strings’ binding her to Batman were felt in equal measure by the man. 

“When Batman says my name, and then I hear you, I do tend to pay attention,” the computer genius said in a testy voice. “DESPITE your pranks and running off, I do care what happens to you.” The last was said with more gentleness than Oracle truly intended on showing this early on in Canary’s return to grace.

“I ran into him. While I was gone. Things happened.” The blonde felt oddly reticent. “You mean Tim nor Dick coughed it up to you?” At Oracle’s muttering about boiling in oil, Dinah had to chuckle.

“Define ‘it’,” the redhead said. When Canary was silent a long moment, she groaned. “You slept with him, didn’t you? Oh, I thought you had more sense in your head than to jump into a mess like that RIGHT then!”

“Oracle.” Dinah was calm.

“No, Dinah, don’t Oracle me! I’ve seen what happens! He’ll let you in, and then SLAM! He’ll throw a wall in your face. You thought Ollie had issues? Bruce has subscriptions!” 

“Oracle.” Again, Dinah was calm, and this time her partner listened. “I won’t hurt him.” She saw to the heart of the warnings with uncanny ease.

“Damn straight you won’t,” Barbara said softly. “I’d hate to have to find a place to hide your body if you did.” Dinah merely laughed as she turned the motorcycle out toward Wayne Manor.

* * *

Bruce leaned back against the headboard, careful of the heavy tome he held. The beauty in his bed shifted, her hand folding over his thigh as she nuzzled his hip, still quite asleep. He smiled down at her, fully at peace for the moment, knowing he was the reason she could sleep so soundly. This photo album was one he had never looked through, but he had a vague recollection of something, something he needed to find before she woke, and it had to be in this album.

He slowly opened it, mindful of his lover, flipping to the last quarter of it. There, he did tremble a bit at seeing the photos of him laying the roses down, but he pushed past that. It was not much further and he found what had been bothering him. He stared at the picture a long moment, of the boy he had been, standing with a girl so much younger, so much tinier than him in his arms, on his own hip. The raven-haired child could have passed as his baby sister, a thought that amused him, glancing at the now blonde hair of his companion. The amount of trust on that child's face awed him now, even as he saw the extent of trust the woman she had become gave to him. And to think it had all begun with a skinned knee….

`~`~`~`~`

_The Past_

Alfred carefully ignored the brooding glares being cast his way by the young Master Bruce from the back seat of the limousine. At least he had gotten the boy to dress appropriately, admiring the way the Grey Ghost costume did seem perfectly appropriate.

"It is very important that you take part of normal childhood rituals, Master Bruce. The neighborhood we will be canvassing is of modest but impeccable standing."

"I'm too old to do this," Bruce grumbled. "It is a waste of time, Alfie," he added, but the short form of the name betrayed at least some of his interest.

"Nonsense, Master Bruce." Alfred parked the car near the entrance of the community on the side of the road, seeing small groups of parents and children up ahead already moving among the well-lit houses. He soon had his ward out of the car, guiding him into the neighborhood.

The stately gentleman and his elegant little Grey Ghost were no more than ten paces from their car when Alfred drew the boy protectively close. The sharp cries that pierced the night had led to the protective move before Alfred could sort out the need of a child in pain.

"There," Bruce said, pointing and breaking free of the older man's grip. Alfred followed the boy across the road, to where a small child in a fairy princess costume was crying on the sidewalk. A raven-haired woman was crouching next to the child, trying to console her. "Here," Bruce said, crouching and gathering up the candy that had spilled from her bucket.

"I tored my dress," the little girl said, looking up through glistening tears. Startled, Bruce recognized her as the flower shop child that had given him a hug just a few weeks prior, the day he had honored his parents. He looked then at the woman, seeing it was her mother.

"Here…Dinah." She looked rather solemn that he knew her name, as he gently inspected the rip in her skirt and the blood seeping up in the skinned knee. He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to clean the knee, blowing lightly across it. Her bottom lip wibbled as she watched him, especially when he adjusted the rip in her skirt so that it barely showed.

"Miss Drake-Lance, is it not?" Alfred asked, seeing how well his ward was handling the child, and watching her mother slowly stand.

"Call me Dinah, Mister Pennyworth." He inclined has head at her recognition of him from the papers. It was one of the lesser, but still unfortunate, ripples of his ward's tragedy.

"Only if you will call me Alfred." He smiled charmingly at her, offering his arm. In front of them, Bruce was drawing the small girl up, leaning to where she could take his arm in perfect mimicry of the adults.

"Alfred, I think we should escort the ladies," Bruce said, his voice laced with a lighter emotion that his typical brooding pain.

"But of course, Master Bruce, if Miss Dinah has no issue with that?" Alfred inquired, an eyebrow raised to the woman in question.

"I have no objection," she said with a smile for the children. "Now let's go get as many goodies as we can. Little D has an early bedtime."

"As it should be," Alfred agreed. The foursome strolled down the street, two couples of differing ages. Little D turned shy at some of the more festive houses, hearing the creepy noises and seeing the decorations the more talented people had made. Bruce made it a point to wrap his arm around her, offering his protective older presence. The girl was completely enthralled with him, chattering softly at him when he would ask her questions. Alfred noted very swiftly that Dinah Senior was far less talkative, more intent on paying attention to what her daughter said.

After almost an hour and a half of walking, Little D was very tired. She had a very nice amount of treats, which her mother took, and then went to lift the child up. Bruce stopped her, shaking his head. Little D was wrapped under his arm already, and it did not take the boy much effort to pick her up, settling her on one hip as Alfred took his bucket.

"This is too perfect," the mother said, fishing through her own large handbag to pull out a professional camera. "Young sir, may I have a picture? I promise, it won't see light of day anywhere," she added, sensitive to his need for privacy, in light of the paparazzi he normally evaded.

"Only if you promise to send me a copy; I don't want to forget her," Bruce said with almost adult tones. Alfred nodded slightly to himself, pleased Master Bruce was connecting with someone outside the manor and Leslie.

"Of course." She readied the camera, as Little D turned to look at Bruce in a very tender moment of trust.

`~`~`~`~`

_The Present_

Bruce gently slipped the photo from the album, relieved when Dinah rolled away from him in her sleep. Now he put the album away, carrying the picture with him to the kitchen. Early light seeped around the edges of the curtains, and he was pleased they had been able to have most of the night to themselves. He would have to thank his boys later, but for now he needed to get to Alfred.

"Good morning, sir," Alfred began. Bruce nodded to him, obviously preoccupied.

"Alfred, there's that charity function this weekend, a masquerade, I believe," he began. I need two costumes made."

"Sir?" Alfred being startled was clear.

"Here." He handed over the picture. "We have her measurements from the last fitting Oracle handled," Bruce said, trying to act nonchalant. Alfred processed what was in the picture and a slow smile dawned on his face.

"Indeed, sir." He inclined his head. "Both costumes will be ready. Now, I suggest you find some way to insure your intended accompaniment is free that night." Bruce looked at the clock, and made his way down to the cave. He had just enough time to catch Babs before she signed off.

`~`~`~`~`

Dinah stared at the gown Bruce expected her to wear, her nerves prickling that it was somehow familiar. She sometimes envied Babs and Bruce their memories; she had to work far harder to recall information.

She smiled up at him as he came in behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist. "Hey there, lover." She claimed a quick kiss from him, one that turned hungry on his side, and made her shift in his arms to press tight. It was quite reluctantly he let her go, smiling with hints of later.

"Do you like your dress?"

"It's beautiful. But a fairy princess? That is a stretch for me. You get to be a hero still." She eyed him in his Grey Ghost ensemble. For answer, Bruce drew her back, kissing her nose.

"Second time I ever saw you," he murmured, bringing the picture up for her to see. "You were very much the princess."

Her hand came up to hold it, recognizing the quality of her mother's camera work, a skill she had used on occasion for the private investigation agency. That was undeniably her, and the boy…she looked at her lover, and then back. It was unmistakably him.

"I don't remember this," she whispered, flustered, but also pleased at the sight of a young Bruce almost smiling at her younger image.

"I did. And I would very much like Dinah Lance's first official date with Playboy Bruce Wayne to be in these costumes." Bruce's eyes were hooded, having just realized they had made no formal statement toward one another. He need not have worried; she put both of her hands behind his head and drew him in for a kiss. When she let go, her eyes twinkled merrily.

"Doesn't matter which costumes we wear, Bruce." She turned to go dress. "I know it's all about us, with or without masks."

* * *

She has the hands of a fighter, callouses in places so many women would not. And yet those hands are the sweetest feeling he has known as an adult. They move over his chest, finding the various pains, marking them for further ministration. She pauses, gathers up the antiseptic, and begins cleaning the wounds. He could tell her that blowing over the sting puts bacteria back on them, but he doesn't. He loves that part of her too.

But it's the look in her eyes that truthfully starts his healing. She is the balm to ease his soul and body.


End file.
